


Pie-lette

by PrussianInAmerica



Series: Biting Dust [1]
Category: Pushing Daisies, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Private Investigators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-18 07:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7304851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrussianInAmerica/pseuds/PrussianInAmerica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendol Hux’s mother died when he was a child, leaving a gaping hole in the shape of a delicious homemade pie in his life. On the same day, Han Solo, father of Hux’s best friend and neighbor (and love interest) Ben Solo, died as well, orphaning Ben and leaving him in the care of his aunt and uncle for the rest of his life. The next time they meet is twenty years later- when Ben dies.</p><p><b>EDIT 4/24/17: </b> Reformatted to be the first part in a series, rather than an unfinished work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to wait to post this when I finished writing the first episode, but I'm almost done and my patience ran out. I'll be posting one act at a time until I catch up to where I'm at. Right now, I don't know how much of this you can expect. I might end up doing a couple episodes, or I might end up doing both seasons. I will definitely finish the first episode, so don't worry about being left hanging on that one.
> 
> As always, feel free to point out any mistakes in grammar or spelling that you notice. Especially tenses. I wrote a good chunk of what I have in present tense before switching to past tense, and I might have missed one or two of the changes.
> 
>  **EDIT 4/24/17:** Because it's pretty clear I'm not getting around to writing Dummy up any time soon, I've changed this to a completed work. Fear not, however! (Which sounds strangely worded to me, but whatever) I've also set up a series page for when I do have the motivation and/or time to write it. Part of it _is_ written somewhere, but I got distracted by a shiny object and never finished it. One day I will, and it'll be its own part of the series. So if you're looking to be notified when it gets posted I would subscribe to the series instead. Sorry about how long it's been, but hey, look! I'm not dead!

At this moment in the little town of Corellia, Brendol Hux the Second was eleven years, twenty-seven weeks, six days, and three minutes old. His cat, Millicent, was three years, two weeks, six days, five hours, and nine minutes old. And not a minute older. Millicent had a previously unnoticed aneurysm on her right frontal lobe, which chose this moment to burst.

“Millie?” Brendol asked of the unconscious feline at the foot of his bed, who was being uncharacteristically still. He reached out with a single finger and brushed the tip of Millicent’s ear, starting at the small static charge that jumped from her ear to his finger. Millicent’s lungs filled once again and she let out a soft trill before jumping off the bed to find her breakfast.

This is the moment Brendol Hux the Second realized he was not like other children. In fact, he wasn’t like anyone. He was given a unique gift which came with no written instructions or rulebook. Young Brendol could touch dead things and bring them back to life. No one, in particular, gave him this gift, and so there was no one to ask for clarification or to return it to like all other unwanted gifts.

However, he could not be allowed to dwell on his new gift, because Brendol was spending the day next door. The neighbor boy, Ben Solo, was nine years, forty-two weeks, three hours, and two minutes old, and Brendol was very fond of him. Ben’s ears and nose were over large, his skin was flecked with brown spots, his eyes were wonderfully expressive, his hair was long, and he called Brendol _Bren_. Brendol might go so far as to say Ben was his only friend. His best friend.

In their imaginations, young Bren and a neighbor boy named Ben conquered worlds upon worlds. They brought order to a galaxy filled with chaos using Bren’s military precision and Ben’s budding ruthlessness.

Long after Bren returned home, he thought of Ben. It was while he was thinking of Ben that, as if the universe were laughing at him personally, Brendol’s mother succumbed to her own aneurysm in the kitchen.

Kneeling on the linoleum next to her arm, Brendol reached out with a single finger for the second time that day and returned life to his mother’s still form.

“Oh! Must have slipped. Clumsy!” Gloriana Hux exclaimed as she pushed herself up from the floor, not realizing she had been dead for one single heart-wrenching minute. “Did the timer go off?” She asked and did not notice her son staring at her in shock. She did not notice him numbly sit at the kitchen table to watch her, nor did she notice that it was exactly a minute later that Han Solo dropped where he stood, dead.

Young Brendol’s gift did, in fact, have rules. He would later discover he could only bring the dead back to life for one minute without consequence. Any longer and someone else had to die. The coincidental nature of their parents’ deaths never entered his head as he and his mother went to sit with Ben until his aunt and uncle arrived to care for him.

That night, as his mother tucked him in and Millicent purred softly from the foot of the bed, Brendol reflected on how happy he was that his mother was alive again, and how sad he was for Ben. Brendol’s mother leaned over him to place a goodnight kiss on his brow–

And promptly fell to the floor again, once more lifeless. No touch would bring her back this time, for this was the second rule Brendol had not known. First touch, life. Second touch, dead again forever.

After a brief mourning period, Brendol’s father would shuffle him off to boarding school, never to be seen again. Ben would be fostered by aunt Leia and uncle Luke; renowned fencing twins, they shared matching personality disorders and a love for dangerous objects.

At their respective parents’ funerals, dizzy with grief, curiosity, and hormones, young Brendol and a boy named Ben had their first and only kiss.

After his mother’s death, Brendol avoided social attachments, fearing what he would do if someone else he loved died. And he became obsessed with both order and pies. It’s nineteen years, thirty-four weeks, one day, and fifty-nine minutes later, heretofore known as now. Young Brendol has become “The Pie-Maker,” and this pie crust roofed bakery is where he makes his pies. There is never a mess in sight, as he cleans while he works, and the fruit is always ripe – so long as he only touches it once.

“Every day, when I come in, I pick a pie and concentrate all my love on that pie.” At twenty-three years, twelve weeks, six days, and thirty-four minutes old, Finn Troop is the waiter at the Pie Hole, partially because he needs to be able to pay his rent, but mostly because his boss lets him bring home one of the unsold pies every night. “Because if I love it, someone else is gonna love it. I know it’s a silly thing, but at the end of more days than not that’s the pie I’ve sold the most of.”

“Yeah?” The imposing woman in the booth he was standing at grinned at him with all her teeth. It didn’t feel like a happy grin. “What pie do you love today?”

“Rhubarb.”

“I’ll stick with three plum. À la mode.” The woman curtly replied, grin slipping away into the emotionless expression she’d been wearing when Finn came to take her order.

Anastasia Phasma is the sole keeper of the Pie-Maker’s secret. A private investigator, she met him when his Pie Hole was on the verge of financial ruin. Upon learning his secret, she proposed a partnership. Murders are much easier to solve when you can ask the victim who killed them, and pie ingredients and cleaning supplies aren’t free.

“They’re not ‘zombies’, Phasma.” Brendol Hux the second, who now goes by simply Hux, spends these conversations with his partner cleaning. He wipes microscopic crumbs from the bar surface and mops nonexistent dirt from the tile floor. “This isn’t some B horror movie. They aren’t undead, either. Starting a statement with a negative is like saying you don’t disagree. Save us all some time and just say you agree.”

"Living dead?"

“You’re either living and you’re alive, or you’re not and you’re dead. They’re alive again. And then they’re dead again.”

Phasma almost had what she assumed would be a witty reply to this, but forgot it when Finn returned to the dining room with a box of lonely cherry cradled in his arms and another cheery smile on his face.

“I’m done for the night.”

Hux didn’t look up from where he was furiously scrubbing at the counter, hoping he could return it to the impossibly shiny red he remembered from the day it was installed. “Did you–”

“All the dirty dishes are organized next to the sink the way you like.”

“And–”

“I set the cleaning supplies out next to them.”

Though he sometimes wondered why he ever bothered hiring a waiter, given the drain it was on his funds, it was times like these – and whenever he was forced to interact with customers – that Hux was thankful he had Finn to pick up the slack around the Pie Hole.

“Lock the door on your way out.”

“Will do, Captain!” Finn swept out the door, missing his boss’ muttered insistence that he was a General, not a Captain.

Phasma waited until the door was definitely shut behind the waiter before beginning again. “Do you want in, or not?” When her partner didn’t react, she tried to sweeten the pot. “A dog is involved.” This tactic appears to do nothing at first, as neither Hux nor Millicent, who was sitting a safe distance from his feet grooming herself meticulously, react in the slightest. However, when Hux deemed the counter clean enough - for now - he stood up fully and cut an unimpressed look at the woman.

“Owning a cat does not automatically make me a universal animal lover.” Hux began taking care of the supplies he used the clean the counters, Millicent following along at a languid pace.

“But you’re not an animal hater.”

“No.” Millicent could attest to that. The amount of pampering he paid her considering he couldn’t actually touch her was astonishing. “What kind of dog?”

“The soon to be dead kind. Cantaloupe–”

"Who the hell subjects a dog to a name like Cantaloupe?”

“Who subjects a cat to a name like Millicent?”

“Millicent is a perfectly sound name. One should not name pets after food, though.” This was a fair point, Phasma thought.

“ _Cantaloupe_ is accused of murder. Found at the scene of the crime with a piece of her owner in her mouth.”

“If the dog did it, why are we–”

“Cantaloupe’s innocent. Framed, the family said. Docile as a kitten, apparently.”

“Millicent was never docile,” Hux muttered as Phasma slid a picture across the counter to him. Upon picking it up he heaved a great disgusted sigh. “Chows are the most likely breed to turn on their owners. You’re wasting our time. Go waste it on your own.” He strode into the kitchen, metaphorically washing his hands of the business and getting ready to literally wash the dishes of leftover pie.

Phasma followed him, bringing the plate from her own pie with her and placing it next to the sink with the others. “If it’s a waste of time it’ll be a much shorter one with you along, and if it isn’t ten-thousand dollars is a lot of money.”

“It doesn’t seem… Proportional to me that we split the money evenly. Without my help, it would take you three times as long to wrap cases up.”

“Finder’s fee. Plus you wouldn’t be able to get to the bodies without me.” Hux sniffed delicately and ignored Phasma’s rebuttal in favor of starting the dishes. “Tomorrow morning, eight?”

“I’ll have to open and ask Finn to watch Millie. Nine.”

* * *

Following Phasma into the morgue, Hux wondered at how clean everything was. Surfaces gleamed in the harsh florescent lights, papers were all either filed away in space saving cabinets or in an orderly stack at the corner of the coroner’s desk, even the floor had been meticulously cleaned and waxed to the point of reflection. Hux thinks that in another life he might have liked to be a coroner.

“You’re the dog expert?” The coroner himself was someone Hux had never met. Up to this point, Phasma had always brought him to the morgue after everyone was home for the day, so there would be less chance of being caught with a talking dead body they can’t explain. If it was this empty normally, they’d probably start coming during normal hours more often.

“Yes. Through here?” Hux kept his tone clipped as he made a bee-line for the swinging doors he’d walked through more than the average citizen but less than the average coroner.

“Oh, yes, but we’ve already had a dog expert.”

Of course.

“Second opinion. Requested by the family.” It was a long shot, but the man took it.

“Oh, alright.”

Phasma led the way and found the correct drawer, pulling it out and stepping away to give Hux room. He carefully pulled the sheet back, inspecting the facial injuries and determining how they would affect the man's speech.

“How does he look?”

“Fine, but you know I have a high threshold.”

Phasma nodded and stayed right where she was. “Right.”

Hux eyeballed the clock on the wall, waiting for the second hand to hit the top before he pressed a finger to the man’s forehead. The man with the mauled face sat up on his elbows and stretched his face in a bland half-smile.

“Hello!”

“Hello, Mr. Gaswint.”

“Leo, please.”

“Fine, Leo. Do you have any information concerning how you came to be as you are?”

This is when Mr. Gaswint noticed the unnatural feeling in his right cheek and remembered the last thing he saw. “Damn dog.”

“Your chow, Cantaloupe?” Hux asked, hoping to tie this up quickly.

“No, no. Cantaloupe’s docile as a kitten.” Mr. Gaswint clearly didn’t know how vicious kittens could be, Hux thought. “It’s that Rottweiler. My secretary sicced her dog on me. She’s been upset since last year’s Christmas party. You know, it’s a funny story. I–” With the pertinent information out of the way and a corpse trying to tell him about the last Christmas party it’d been to, Hux tapped Mr. Gaswint’s forehead again, silencing him forever.

“He still had more than thirty seconds.” Phasma pointed out from her post near the door.

The Pie-Maker pulled the sheet up over Mr. Gaswint’s face again before pushing the drawer back into the wall. “And he was going to spend those seconds telling me useless things and wasting our time. We have what we need.”

The coroner, who Phasma would later tell him was named Mitaka, accepted Hux’s explanation that Mr. Gaswint was clearly attacked by a Rottweiler with much stuttering and shuffling of papers. Her good name cleared and her execution stayed, Cantaloupe was freed. And the secretary and her Rottweiler were hauled to justice.

Back in his apartment, Finn was just settling in for the night with Millicent. She could have survived in Hux’s apartment on her own, so long as someone fed her, but Hux was very insistent that she be looked after. Finn didn’t actually mind. Millicent was a nice enough cat, as far as cats went, and she seemed to actually like him. When she stayed with him she spent most of her time on his lap, basking in the attention she knew – but Finn did not know – she could not get from her owner.

“An anonymous tip led to solving the murder of a Michigan entrepreneur thought to be mauled by the family pet. The truth, however, is much more sinister…”

Taking care of Millicent helped Finn to forget how lonely he was, too. He didn’t have any friends here, and his family were all gone. He’d tried to become Hux’s friend when he started working at the Pie Hole, but the older man wasn’t having any of it. Some people prefer solitude, he guessed; he just wasn’t one of them.

A knock at the door roused him from his thoughts and he carefully removed Millicent from his lap, powering off the television and moving to answer the knock. Hux stood on the other side of the door, hands clasped together behind his back.

“How was your convention?” Finn asked as Millicent padded over from the couch to stand beside him at the door.

“Conventional. How was Millie?”

“Same as always: needy.” Finn removed Millicent’s leash – which he had always found strange – from the hook next to the doorway and attached it to her collar before handing the end to his boss. “Do you ever pet her?”

“She prefers that I don’t.” The Pie-Maker did not tell his employee that he could not pet his beloved cat, or she would die. He did not tell his employee that he was grateful for the time she spent with Finn, because then she got the affection she deserved. Instead, he thanked Finn for watching her and walked Millie to his own apartment.

“In other news, the body of a young man allegedly murdered aboard a cruise ship has been recovered from the sea. The victim’s identity is being withheld…”

The Pie-Maker listened intently to the news, unaware that he had stopped breathing. He was haunted by the nameless man who met his end on the high seas. But he didn’t know why.

The next night while he was cleaning the Pie Hole’s kitchen, he turned the news on again.

“His name still withheld, very little is known of the victim,” A different reporter than the night before announced. “Who was reportedly traveling alone when murdered aboard a passenger ship that was returning from a cruise sailing between the United States and Tahiti. The ship’s captain initially dismissed the death as an accident, suggesting the victim likely returned from a late night out, hurt himself…”

Phasma’s knock at the front door only startled him because the shop had been closed for hours. Not because he’d been paying to much attention to the news.

“Been watching the news lately?” She asked as they sipped coffee at the counter.

“Of course. There doesn’t seem to be much going on aside from that dead cruise boy.”

“There’s a lot going on with that dead cruise boy.”

“That so?”

"Yup. Fifty-thousand dollars worth of that so.” She peered at him over her cup. “You interested in a conversation?”

Hux tried not to look too shocked at the number, affecting a disinterested expression. “I could be persuaded.”

"Better be persuaded quick, dead boy’s going in the ground.”

“They just pulled him out of the water.”

“Jedi. Christians leave them lying around. Jeds gotta get them buried.”

“Where’s dead boy being buried?”

“Corellia.” At Hux’s raised eyebrows she continued. “Ever been?”

“I was raised there. Mostly. Corellian dead boy have a name?”

“Benjamin Solo.”

Hux’s heart did not stop, it began beating much faster. Blood rushed around his ears, making him feel as if he had been the man to fall overboard. His breath came in short, shallow bursts.

“Ben?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barring an event that may happen soon, I hope to update on Saturdays. Possibly Sundays if I forget or don't have Internet access on the Saturday before. I'm three weeks ahead and hope to keep it that way, so hopefully this won't turn into what's happening with Radioactive Tragedy, Zingiberaceous, and Hate Date.
> 
> Coeur d'Coeurs' location is slightly disputed. Though its zip code places it somewhere in New Hampshire, mentions of typhoons place it and the town the Pie Hole occupies (heh, occuPIES. I'm seven.) on the west coast rather than the east coast. I always thought Pushing Daisies took place in Michigan, due to the mention of Leo Gaswint being a "Michigan entrepreneur", so that's where Corellia is in this (I also live in Michigan, so I'm slightly biased). As for the Pie Hole's location, we know it is 131 miles due north of Coeur d'Coeur/Corellia, but not much else. I contemplated naming it in this, but it felt like putting a label on something that didn't need it.


	2. Act II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter than the last, but the next act is longer.

"You know this boy?”

“I knew him.”

“Knew?”

“I haven’t thought of him since I was eleven.” He lied.

Hux had returned to Corellia few times after being sent off to boarding school by his father. But he’d thought of Ben every day.

The facts were these: Benjamin Solo, twenty-nine years, twenty-four weeks, three days, eleven hours, and fifty-one minutes old was found floating in the ocean moments after being discarded there. Discarded by whom seemed to be a question only Benjamin Solo could answer.

In the viewing room with a casket he was fairly certain Ben would have hated for the sheer amount of seashells on it, Hux was faced with the knowledge that he was supposed to bring his childhood friend back to life with Phasma watching dispassionately.

“I’ll do this one alone.” He told her once the funeral director had left them with the body.

“Got something personal to say?”

“Yes.” Hux hesitated. “For closure.”

“ _You_ have something that needs closure?”

Hux tried not to be offended by this. He wasn’t the most emotional of men, in fact, he preferred to not feel anything about people, but he was human. “Just one of those stupid things kids do that they don’t realize they’re doing.”

Phasma shrugged. “As long as it doesn’t infringe on my minute.” She pulled out a cigarette and a lighter, turning to leave. “Ask who killed him first.”

“I will.”

He lifted the lid of the casket, allowing the light of the room to fall on Ben. His hair, which had always been floppy and falling in his eyes when they were children, was much longer and darker than Hux remembered, fanned out on the pillow under his head. He retained all of the beauty marks he’d had as a child, as well as new ones he’d gained over the years. His eyes were closed, but Hux remembered what they looked like: a deep, rich brown that showed all of his emotions as soon as he experienced them. It looked like he grew into his ears a bit, but they still seemed overlarge and out of place. Hux thought his nose looked a bit more crooked than it had, but he somehow made it work.

Only Prince Charming could know how the Pie-Maker felt at that moment. Great thought was taken as to where to touch him. The lips would be too forward, too… Creepy. Hux wondered if his hair would work. He also wondered how it would feel. Brushing the silky smooth strands produced nothing, and so he thought some more. Finally, he decided on Ben’s temple, right at his hairline. It would be a tender gesture, but could be construed as somewhere one would touch a friend.

He pulled his finger away as soon as it took and waited out the excruciating second for Ben to open his eyes. He expected a smile or even confusion. He did not expect to be pulled by his tie headfirst into the casket lid.

“Ow!” Hux straightened up and grabbed at his forehead as Ben pulled himself out of the casket and rushed to the other side of the room. “Shit, goddamn, Ben!” When he pulled his hands away and looked at his friend, Ben had armed himself with a chair and appeared very ready to use it. “Wait!”

“Who are you?”

“Do you remember the boy who lived next door to you when your father died?” Hux hoped he did. This was already going badly enough without being beaten with a chair.

Ben stared at him for half a second before his eyes flashed with recognition. “Bren?” Hux never realized how much he missed that name until Ben said it for the first time in almost twenty years. “Oh my Force. Hey! How are you?”

“Good. You look...” He trailed off, realizing he didn’t really have an appropriate way to end the sentence. “Do you know what’s happening right now?”

“I had the strangest dream I was being strangled to death with a plastic sack.”

“You _were_ strangled to death with a plastic sack.” Hux winced. “Sorry. Didn’t know how to sugarcoat that.”

“Oh.” Ben looked around the room, eyes landing on the casket. “ _Oh._ ”

"You only have a minute. Less.”

He turned back to face the other man and Hux was suddenly struck by how big he was. Ben only had a couple inches over him, but everything about him seemed larger than life and to tower over everything. “What can I do in less than a minute?”

“You can tell me who killed you.”

“Well, I don’t know who killed me. I went to get ice and I dropped my room key in the ice maker and as I was thinking, ‘That was dumb’…”

As he was thinking “That was dumb” Ben was strangled to death with a plastic sack. He was then dumped overboard and discovered by a man whose window his body had sailed past. Of course, Ben didn’t know any of this.

“And that’s when you touched me.”

Phasma knocked on the door to the viewing room but didn’t enter. “What’s taking so long in there?”

“ _Just a second!_ ”

“Is my time up?” Ben’s voice sounded small, and his eyes looked sad but resigned. Hux felt bad.

“I’m sorry.” He looked at his feet. “Thanks for calling me Bren. No one’s called me that since… Well, since you. And, when we were kids I had a–” He stopped. That wasn't right. “I was in–” No. “You were my first kiss.” Perfect.

Ben grinned, and boy did he look like Han Solo when he did that. “Really? You were my first kiss, too. Wanna be my last kiss? First and last? Or,” He faltered, his grin slipping. “Is that too weird?”

“It’s not weird,” Hux smiled. “It’s symmetrical. Orderly.”

Ben stepped closer to Hux, leaning down a bit so he could reach, and closed his eyes. Hux tilted his head up and began to close the distance. Ben’s minute of life was almost up. The Pie-Maker’s lips went as far as they would go. He couldn’t will them to go any further. And as a consequence, the funeral director would go no further.

Ben opened his eyes and looked down at Hux. “If you don’t want to kiss me, that’s okay. I just thought–”

“No, I do. It’s just… What if you didn’t have to be dead?” This decision was one that could potentially be the stupidest of his entire life, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying.

“Well, that would be great.”

“Nobody can know.” Hux carefully maneuvered around Ben and pulled the lid of the casket back up from where it had fallen when his head hit it. “Hop in.”

Ben clambered in, folding his long limbs into some semblance of what they had been when Hux brought him back. “This is the strangest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I have to think of a way to sneak you out of here. Can you lie still until I come back?”

“Yeah.”

Closing the lid on the casket didn’t feel like a final farewell to either Ben or Hux, more like the goodbye you say at the end of the school day to your best friend who lives on the other side of town. They both knew they’d see each other again, and so they didn’t worry.

“So?” Phasma’s cigarette was half gone. Hux had been in there longer than he thought.

“Doesn’t know. Didn’t know.”

“Someone just threw his carcass off the side of a boat and - you’re sweating. How warm is it in there?”

“Thank you for your consideration.” Hux glared at his partner. “I just had to kill my childhood friend and all you can ask is ‘how warm is it’?”

The PI raised an eyebrow at her partner’s strange reaction. “Sorry.”

“I’m going to stay for the funeral.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I’ll catch a later bus.”

“If you say so.”

“Do you know how to get back to the station?”

“I’m not directionally challenged.”

“Right. See you later.”

Phasma waved her still lit cigarette at him over her shoulder as she left and didn’t look back. Even so, Hux waited until she was at the sidewalk before he returned to the viewing room to retrieve Ben. Only to find that he was no longer there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story, touching Ben's hair should have worked. According to the Pushing Daisies IMDB [FAQ](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0925266/faq?ref_=tt_faq_sm#.2.1.10), touching someone's hair would be enough to bring someone back (or kill them). I ignored it because I wanted to. No real excuse.
> 
> Also, Hux didn't mention that he had another reason for not kissing Ben. If they had kissed while Ben was standing, Hux would have been stuck attempting to lift him into his casket. There was also the chance that Ben would have fallen on top of him and how the hell do you explain that to someone?


	3. Act III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO JUST FOUND OUT HUX'S FIRST NAME AND IS BOTH PISSED AND EXCITED.
> 
> ON THE ONE HAND, ONE MORE PART OF THIS FIC IS COMPLETELY WRONG AND WILL NEVER HAPPEN.
> 
> On the other, Kylo can call him "Army"

Lying in the dark, Ben considered how he came to be lying in the dark. He considered the life he had with aunt Leia and uncle Luke. Their shared personality disorders blossomed into incapacitating social phobias and paranoia, which made it hard for them to leave the house. Which, in turn, made it hard for Ben to leave them. He served his community by harvesting honey for the homeless. He read about people he would never be, on adventures he would never have. He trained with his uncle to keep himself in top physical form.

Life was good enough, until one day... it wasn’t. Ben wanted more, but at Boutique Travel travel boutique he got more than he bargained for.

* * *

Hux caught up to Ben’s casket, caught his breath, and set a truck on fire. Not the easiest - or safest - of things to do, but he eventually succeeded.

“I’m sorry, I was just wondering, is that your truck?”

The two graveyard workers getting ready to bury Ben spit out twin expletives and bolted for their work truck. Assuming it would take some time for them to get it under control, Hux got down on his belly by the grave and reached down to pull the casket lid up again. (He was surprised at how easy this was, given that common knowledge stated graves were six feet deep. Hux was unaware of the fact that many states, Michigan included, had no laws about how deep graves must be and in fact many modern graves were only covered by two or three feet of dirt when all was said and done.)

“Sorry I’m late.”

Only Sleeping Beauty could know how Ben felt at this moment, looking up at his childhood sweetheart - for he lacked the issue with this term that Hux had - from the bottom of his own grave.

* * *

“I can’t even hug you?” Ben asked later that night from one of the Pie Hole’s bar stools, completely ignoring the slice of pie Bren had placed in front of him when he sat down.

“If it helps,” Hux began, organizing the area behind the bar in an attempt to work off the nervous energy he still had from chasing Ben’s hearse down. “I probably wouldn’t let you even if it wouldn’t kill you. Not a big fan of hugs.”

“You haven’t been hugged right, then. A hug is like an emotional Heimlich. Someone puts their arms around you, and they give you a squeeze and all your fear and anxiety comes shooting out of your mouth in a big, wet wad and you can breathe again.”

“Aside from that being the most disgusting description of a hug I’ve ever heard, some people just don’t like hugs. Some people don’t like kissing either. Are you going to tell them they haven’t been kissed right?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve only been kissed by you.”

Hux stopped moving and blinked, searching for something to say to that. “I’ve lost my train of thought.”

“How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Bringing you back? It wasn’t premeditated. Last night I found out you were murdered and decided to find your killer. I only meant to bring you back for the one minute, but… I couldn’t bring myself to kill you again.”

Ben smiled stupidly at Hux from the other side of the bar. The Bren he remembered wasn’t nearly this sentimental. “I always wondered if you’d come back. Guess you came back when I needed you most, huh? Well, actually that would have been before I was killed, but this worked out.”

“You know you can’t go back, right? Your aunt and uncle can’t know you’re alive.”

“They’ll go off their rockers without me. They never leave the house, anyway. It’s not like they’ll tell anyone.”

“People don’t encounter supposedly dead by actually alive people very often. In fact outside of zombie movies, it doesn’t happen at all.” Great, now Phasma had him calling them zombies. “No one can know.”

“I guess dying is as good a reason to start living as any.”

* * *

In Hux’s living room, he introduced the only two living dead brings he had ever brought back to stay. That were still alive, anyway.

“This is Millicent.”

"Wasn't your old cat named Millicent?" Ben asked, reaching down to pet the ginger tabby.

“This is her.”

He looked up over his shoulder at his companion. “You…?”

“Yes.”

“She’s gotta be what, over twenty years old now?” Ben felt sorry for Millicent, in an odd sort of detached way. She hadn’t been able to receive any affection from her owner in who knew how long. That was no way for a cat to live, but at least she did live.

“Twenty-three.” Hux confirmed as Ben scooped Millicent into his arms.

“Cats don’t live that long, usually. Am I immortal?”

“I don’t know.” He carefully sidestepped around the two to the couch. “It’s not something I’ve ever really thought about.”

“At least you won’t have to worry about losing me this time.”

“Well, don’t go jumping off any buildings, just in case. Now, I hate to be a bad host, but I’m exhausted. Long day of chasing caskets.”

“Oh, right.”

“You take the bed, for now. I’ll sleep out here tonight and we’ll figure out a more permanent arrangement later.” Sitting on the couch, Hux toed off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket. He could sleep in his clothes for one night.

“We could share.”

“I appreciate the thought, but that could kill you.”

“Oh. Sorry, that’s gonna take some getting used to.”

“Quite alright. It isn’t as if this is normal.”

“Normal enough for you that you have a dead cat and an equally dead childhood sweetheart.”

Hux cringed away from Ben at the word ‘sweetheart’ as if he could keep it from physically touching and infecting him. “But just you two. I’ve never brought anyone else back to stay.” He lied. He had not told Ben of the reason for the one minute rule, nor did he intend to anytime soon. “It isn’t as if I bring people back at the drop of a hat.” He laid down, hoping Ben would take the hint and leave him for the night. This conversation was wandering into territory he wasn’t at all comfortable with and he was in danger of falling asleep in the middle of it.

“For anyone else, bringing two dead things back to life is a lot.”

“I suppose. Now can I please get some sleep? I have an early day at the Pie Hole.”

“Sure, sure.” Ben stepped around the coffee table, bringing Millicent with him to the edge of the hallway. Looking back, he found Hux already asleep and smiled. “I’d kiss you if it wouldn’t kill me.”

* * *

Sitting up in a strange bed, in a strange place, watching his funeral on the evening news, Ben was struck by the undignified nature of celebrity. The picture every news station had decided to use was unflattering to say the least; his hair was messed up, his face was covered in what he assumed was barbecue sauce, and he was wearing a bib. He hoped Hux – which Bren had said was what he went by now – would never see it.

“Boutique Travel travel boutique is offering a fifty-thousand dollar reward in the murder of Benjamin Solo.”

What?

* * *

Trying to wake someone without touching them turned out to be much harder than anticipated.

“Bren? Bren. Hux.”

Bren made some strange sound and opened his eyes a little. “What?”

“Would I still be alive if I knew who killed me?”

“What? Yes, of course. Why? Did you see something about the reward on the news?”

“You said you wanted to find my killer. Was that just because of the reward?”

“No. Maybe it started out that way, but when Phasma told me it was you, it… changed. I wouldn’t have known you were dead cruise boy without the reward.”

“Dead cruise boy?”

“Your name wasn’t released until you were buried. To keep people from your funeral, I think.”

“They called me dead cruise boy?”

“No, Phasma and I did.”

“Fifty-thousand dollars is a lot of pie, Hux.” That didn’t feel right. Hux never wanted to hear Ben call him that again if he could help it.

“Twenty-five thousand. I have a business partner.”

“Now it’s a business?”

“Not in a traditional sense.”

“Just tell me: do you want the reward?”

“I wouldn’t mind it. As you said it’s a lot of money, even with the split. But I don't want it if it costs me you.”

“Alright. Go back to sleep.”

Lying in back in bed, Ben curled up to the wall he knew the bed and couch shared. He pressed his hand to it and imagined he could feel the warmth from Bren’s hand just on the other side. His hand slipped further and further down the wall until he drifted to sleep and it fell to the bed.

* * *

In the morning, Ben woke to the strange feeling one experiences when waking up at someone else’s house. It only lasted as long as it took him to roll over, thankfully.

_Please do not leave this apt. Will discuss after work._

He scoffed at the note and pushed himself out of Bren’s bed. Millicent followed him around the room as he rummaged in Bren’s things for something more appropriate to wear than his funeral suit. The only clothes he found that would fit him were horribly ratty and would probably have been much too baggy on Bren for him to feel comfortable wearing. Ben felt right at home in the dark material, but he couldn't figure out why Bren had it.

Pulling the hood of the jacket over his head and trying to hide his face as much as possible, Ben left the apartment. He practically ran into Bren’s neighbor on the way out.

“Uh, I’m a friend of Br– Hux’s.” He explained to the man’s confused look.

“… Oh.”

“I’m actually looking for him?”

“He’s at the Pie Hole.” The man blinked. “I mean, I assume he is. He didn't ask me to open or come in early.”

“Oh, cool. Are you headed there now? We could walk together.”

“Yeah, sure. Any friend of Hux’s, I guess.”

* * *

“How was the service?”

Hux picked at a spot on the table that he was sure was some kind of caked on food. It wouldn't budge. “How is any funeral, Phasma? I paid my respects.”

“Weren’t looking to _get_ paid?”

“What?”

“I’m just saying. Might see a dead man talking to you in confidence as a lot of easy money.”

“Yes. That’s why I stayed later. I wanted to use my childhood best friend’s death as a way to get fifty-thousand dollars. You're really good, you know. You should be a detective.”

The door swung open over Phasma’s shoulder and Finn stepped in with a dark, looming figure in tow. A figure that shoved into the booth next to Phasma.

“Are you the business partner?”

“Yes…”

“Look who I found upstairs! Doesn't he look a lot like that dead boy?” Finn reached over and pulled Ben’s hood down to show his face off better.

Phasma grinned her patent pending you-did-something-stupid grin at Hux. “He looks exactly like that dead boy.”

“That guy was really good looking, you should take it as a compliment. And Phasma doesn't give compliments very often.”

Hux looked up from the table, sneering. “Don't you have some pies to love?”

“Oh. You heard that?”

“Go.”

Ben waited until they were relatively alone to start in on his only slightly rehearsed speech. “I’ve been thinking. Well, I mean, I’m always thinking, because it's pretty hard to just stop yourself from thinking. You know how it is, you see something and your brain just takes it and runs. Hard to keep yourself from doing that. But I’ve been purposefully thinking. Really thinking. What if we solved my murder and collected the reward?”

“First,” Hux began, giving up any semblance of trying to clean. “I told you to stay in the apartment.”

“What’s the point of being alive if I stay inside all day?”

“Second, I thought you didn't want the reward.”

“No, I wanted you to not want the reward. Keep up, Bren.”

“Bren?” Phasma asked, eager for more dirt on her business partner.

Hux glared at her. “Only he is allowed to call me that.”

“Look, fifty-thousand is a lot of money. We could split it, thirty-thirty-forty.” At Phasma’s look, Ben continued. “I did die for it.”

“I could do thirty-thirty-forty.”

“You’re supposed to be dead, Ben. You are pushing your luck.”

“Yeah, well, luck pushed me first.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just, you know, I died because of luck.” Ben huffed. “It sounded cooler in my head.”

“Sure.”

“Well, as great as this is,” Phasma pushed her way out of the booth, half climbing over Ben. “My partner and I need to have a chat. Alone.” She grabbed Hux’s arm and pulled him after her to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually like Chuck's line at the end of act three. It always just sounded good to me. But I also always wondered what Emerson and Ned had to say to it. Obviously, Hux wouldn't think it was as awesome as the viewers did, so I added a little bit to the end of the chapter.
> 
> Also, this chapter is 2187 words. And I did not add four extra words just to make that happen.


	4. Act IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Notice at end of chapter for subscribers who were notified of this chapter twice as well as those who haven't seen the notice on the story summary.**

Phasma had only known Hux for a few months when the dead boy came into their lives. She wouldn't say she knew him very well. Well enough not to step on toes accidentally. She did know him to be a highly unemotional man who preferred to clean rather than spend time with people.

Seeing him around Benjamin Solo was another experience. Of course he was still irritable, snarky, and relatively the same man she only knew the barest thing about, but he looked at Ben a certain way, had already given him certain allowances. The Hux she hardly knew didn't even allow a senior discount.

“Are you in love with him?”

“What?”

“Well, you didn't kill him. That level of stupidity suggests you either love him or he’s an immediate relative, which I highly doubt.”

“I’m… confused. I was certainly more affected than I thought I would be by bringing him back.”

She sighed. Of course he didn’t know what love felt like. “You said you had something that needed closure. What was it?”

“I kind of killed his father when I was eleven.”

“Well, that’s certainly something that needs closing. Did you actually do it or did it play out like killing him did?” The look on his face said it all. “Who died instead?”

“Funeral director. He stole priceless family heirlooms from corpses, supposedly.” Hux began walking around the kitchen, cleaning as he went. “It’s a random proximity thing.”

“I was in proximity!”

“Well, I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking correctly.”

“Clearly!”

He stopped at the sink, looking at the window box of easy to keep flowers. “Look, I’m not proud of myself–”

“That’s a blatant lie.”

“I’m not proud of this decision, then.” Hux sighed. “I knew it was stupid as I was doing it and I couldn’t help myself.”

“And I understand that. But all you know about this boy is that he got himself killed.”

A throat cleared behind Phasma and she turned to find the boy in question.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“That’s a good way to convince me you should still be alive.”

“I mean, I’m not the small town boy who never left home only for the first time he did to be his last.” Ben paused. “Well, I _am_ , but that’s not all I am. And I was… Hoisted by my own petard.”

Hux’s eyebrows did their level best at touching his hairline at this. “You know what a petard is?”

“Not much to do in that house but read, train, and read some more.”

“You were saying?” Phasma urged, attempting to get them back to the topic at hand.

“That Tahitian getaway. It was a deal with the devil. I just didn’t know it until it was too late.”

“And the devil was?”

“Dee Dee Duffield. She was my travel agent and she offered to foot the bill if I picked something up for her.”

“Drugs?”

“I don’t think so. I guess they might have been filled with something, but they just looked like plaster monkeys to me. Dee Dee said it was purely sentimental value that she wanted them for.”

“Not much in the world I would feel sentimental enough about to pay for someone’s Tahitian vacation.”

“You should ask Dee Dee about it. I’d like to know what was so great about what I died for too.”

* * *

Boutique Travel travel boutique manager Dee Dee Duffield hoped the fifty-thousand dollar reward would catch a killer before a killer caught her. It fell short of achieving its desired goal.

“Is this how they found me?” Ben grimaced as he peeled the plastic bag off his former travel agent’s face. “Force, I thought the picture all the news stations used was embarrassing.”

“It was.”

Hux and Ben switched places wit the beginning of a dance they would perfect in the coming months. The Pie-Maker considered the corpse without touching it, trying to figure out how long she’d been dead. “No need to be rude, Phasma.”

“Thanks, Bren, but I don’t mind. Aunt Leia’s blunt, too.”

“Will you just touch the body already? I don’t want to be here when the cops arrive.”

Once Ben stepped away from the body, Hux reached a hand out toward it, but hesitated with his fingers just an inch from her skin.

“Performance issues?”

He glared over his shoulder at the formerly dead man. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He checked his watch and tapped the travel agent’s forehead before Ben could reply.

Dee Dee Duffield was fairly certain she had been strangled to death, at least that’s what she remembered. When opening her eyes again after she died brought the image of Benjamin Solo, however, she was hardly surprised.

“Hey Benjamin.”

“Hey Dee Dee.”

“Now, how’d I know you’d be the first person I’d see when I got to…” The travel agent chanced a glance around at her surroundings, finding no heavenly light or hellfire. “Is this…? Which one is this?”

“Neither, so long as you cooperate. Here’s the deal: You get to talk for like a minute,” Ben carefully did not look at Bren or Phasma when he said this. Looking like a rookie in front of a corpse was not on his bucket list. “We’re gonna catch up and then you’re not talking anymore.”

Dee Dee grinned. “Does everyone get to do this? ‘Cause–”

“Did you know I was going to be murdered?”

All trace of amusement was washed off her face as she settled on a grim expression Ben didn’t think she would have been capable of. “I thought there might be a possibility, yes. I’m real sorry about that. I probably should have said something. But to be honest, and really?” She barked a laugh at herself, once again amused at her own predicament. Hux almost admired her ability to not care. “Why not, at this point? If it was safe, I would have done it myself. God, this is fantastic! Being honest is fun!”

Phasma was nearly fed up with this woman. The minute was half gone and they hadn’t gotten anything useful. Hux would have gotten the relevant information and ended it by now if he’d been in charge. She didn’t think she’d ever miss his brusque approach, but she had to admit they’d never had a problem because of it. “Ask her who killed her. And you. And what’s up with the monkeys.”

“Who are these people?” Dee Dee asked, looking at Phasma and Hux for the first time since waking.

“That’s Phasma. I don’t really know her.” Ben looked at Hux and smiled that stupid smile Phasma wanted to punch simply because it was so naïve and nauseating. “And this is Bren. He was my first kiss.”

“Oh, you’re adorable.” Dee Dee smiled and leaned closer to Hux. She reached out for his face. “Look at your–” The corpse hit the desk with a solid sound, frustratingly lifeless once again.

“You couldn’t have moved a little?”

Hux looked as rattled as Phasma had ever seen him, and she’d seen him bring back a decapitated head with no problem. “I didn’t know she was going to touch me. Who _does_ that?”

“Actually, she does.” Ben indicated the dead woman and stood up. “Like a lot. Doesn’t really matter, though. Her minute was almost up.”

“You’re right, as much as that pains me to admit. Right now we need to focus on why the killer would care about Dee Dee if he already had the monkeys.”

“But he doesn't. I dropped my key, remember? He couldn’t get into my room.”

Ben was correct. Upon killing him, his murderer was disheartened to find out the room key that had prevented him from simply breaking in and stealing his treasure – no murder needed – was nowhere on the corpse he was hauling.

“So he doesn’t have what he killed for.” Hux seemed to have finally recovered from the shock of an unsolicited touch to his cheek.

“Where does your stuff go when you die on a cruise?”

“Next of kin.”

As the three discussed what they should do next, one hundred and thirty-one miles due south Luke and Leia Skywalker were sitting down to a light afternoon snack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NOTICE 7/19/16:** Apologies if you're a subscriber and were notified of this chapter twice. I updated the day it was posted to be sure the new notice on the story summary was seen. It most likely will not happen again, but I'm not going to make promises knowing my personal track record with them. There is a chance that the next chapter will go up as planned, though it's very small and even I'm not placing bets on it. Updates will definitely resume on the 30th.


	5. Act V

“Stay in the car.”

“I can’t even look in the window?”

Hux cut the ignition and glanced over at Ben. “If you can from your seat right there, by all means do so.”

“Can I–”

“No you may not move the car.”

“I was suppose to keep them sane, Bren.” Ben looked down at his hands and sighed. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to them.”

“They’ll be fine. We’ll go in and check on them–”

“And get the monkeys.” Phasma added drily from the back seat where she had been banished to make room for the dead boy.

Hux continued on without acknowledging her. “Then we’ll call the police. Besides, you said you trained with your uncle. He can probably handle whatever might have happened before we got here.”

“I should have been able to handle it, too. You see how well that turned out,” The dark haired man gestured to himself. “And I’m a lot younger.”

“In any case, I’m sure nothing _has_ happened.”

“Okay…” Hux watched Ben as he seemed to shrink in the passenger seat, pulling his shoulders in and hunching down a bit. “Phasma?”

The woman in the back looked up from her phone, far more interested in the new game she had downloaded before they left than whatever romcom-esque conversation was taking place in the front seat. “Oh, am I part of this sickening conversation now?”

Ben played with his fingers, twisting his hands back and forth. “Can I have a hug?”

“No.”

The Pie-Maker wondered how anyone on earth human being could look more like a kicked puppy. “Phasma, give him a hug.”

“Oh for the love of–” She shoved her phone in her pocket and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around the passenger seat and, consequently, Ben. She reminded herself that killing him wouldn’t be helpful in the least as she squeezed his chest tightly. “Happy?”

“Never.” Hux hesitated for only the least noticeable of seconds. “That’s from me.”

Phasma’s undignified squawk – “You’re taking credit for my hugs?” – didn’t faze Ben, who smiled happily over at the other man. Until now, Aunt Leia and Uncle Luke were all he had. And before Ben, all they had were each other.

As teens, they had made a name for themselves as the Twisting Fencing Twins. Many years later, still holding onto their fading glory as foil artistes, their lives were changed forever when Luke had an accident cutting paper which resulted in the loss of his hand. This effectively ended their fencing careers. They retreated behind a different kind of fence, making sure the rest of the world stayed on the other side of it.

Hux knocked on the door, checking over his shoulder that Ben wasn't visibly recognizable from the car, and waited a moment.

"Hello?" A voice on the other side of the door asked.

"Hello. My name is Brendol Hux the Second. I used to live next door twenty years ago. I was a friend of Ben's and I just heard what happened. I'm terribly sorry for your loss."

Phasma and Hux could hear the sound of locks being turned, one after another. After what seemed an excruciatingly long time the door opened to reveal Luke and Leia Skywalker, greyer and more wrinkled than Hux remembered, but it had been twenty years.

Inside, he and Phasma squeezed onto the tiny love seat across a coffee table from the twins. Hux would admit to being the tiniest bit uncomfortable sitting in a living room filled to bursting with weapons he has no doubt one or both of the twins could use to kill him faster than he could blink.

"Ben was tenacious." Leia started, looking bored even while she spoke of her supposedly deceased nephew. "Always trying to get us out of the house. Threatened to dose us with antidepressants. Eventually I was too scared to eat anything that wasn't prepackaged."

"Which was too bad, really. Benny was a wonderful cook." Luke was absentmindedly fiddling with a pocket knife as he said this. Something about the way he handled it made Hux nervous. Like it was going to end up in his jugular. "Nice boy, too." The older man looked over to the Pie-Maker suddenly, scaring him into nearly jumping from his seat. "Do you like boys?”

"Yes, sir."

Luke grinned. It, like everything else the seemingly nice old man did, set him on edge. "Benny was a nice boy."

"With the exception of puberty." Leia pulled the pocket knife from her brother's grasp and closed it before tossing it on the coffee table. It landed with a thud and Hux relaxed a small amount while Luke tried to find something else to do with his hands. He eventually clasped them together in his lap, though he didn't seem happy about it.

"Which was an unfortunate time for us all."

"I almost killed him." The older woman sighed. "The way he did die was horrible. On a cruise. Surrounded by middle-aged, overweight women wearing sweatshirts with strange things like felt kittens sewn to them." She looked around the room, considering the weapons. "Any one of these would have been a more merciful way to go." This somewhat morbid thought silenced the room for a minute.

"I see you're admiring the scimitars," Luke addressed Phasma. "I myself prefer katanas. Faster pace of combat. What's your preference, dear?"

"Glocks. Very fast combat. You should try one."

"I'm sorry?"

Leia sighed again. "Guns, Luke."

"Oh," He looked visibly perturbed at this and shook himself a bit. "No, no. I'll stick to blades. More civilized, I think."

"Not to change the subject," Hux cut in, "But have Ben's belongings been returned yet? As I mentioned, Phasma is a private detective investigating the case and she has reason to believe Ben was in possession of a stainless steel case that's crucial for her to recover."

"I believe there was something to that effect." Leia admitted, standing. "We put everything back in Benny's room. I'll go get it."

Upstairs, Ben carefully jimmied open a window and dropped into his room. Looking around, he suddenly couldn't remember why he was so desperate to leave this life behind. He missed his aunt and uncle, who he could just barely hear talking to Bren and Phasma downstairs. He missed his bees, still buzzing away in their hives outside. He missed everything...

Smuggling monkeys had put an end to his life. Ben didn't want to be remembered as "Dead Cruise Boy." He wanted to be remembered as something better, something grander.

Luckily for him, the case was set on his bed, next to the bag he'd brought his actual belongings in. No need to waste time scouring the room only to find it wasn't even there. And inside were the monkeys. He'd only seen them twice – once in a picture and once in person to ensure they were the real deal we he'd picked them up – but he was certain they were real. He pulled them out of their foam form and closed the case again before slipping back out the window and waiting on the ledge.

Not thirty seconds later, the window slammed shut beside him. A surreptitious glance inside became Ben's first look at his aunt since before he'd left for Tahiti. A plastic sack over her head quickly made the sight less than joyous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter six is written, but instead of posting it today with chapter five I've decided to post it next week. This is to ensure I have time to write Act I of Dummy despite how busy I'll be the next couple weeks. I'd like to keep a regular posting schedule and this is the easiest way for me to do that. Apologies to anyone who was hoping for a double update today.


	6. Act VI

Unaware of the predicament Leia was in, the Pie-Maker did his best to stay off Luke's bad side. Not that he appeared to have one. Aside from the minor hiccups over firearms, he and Phasma were getting along like a house on fire discussing the merits of various blades.

Unable to take it any longer, Hux stood. "I'm just going to see if she needs any help bringing it down."

"Oh, I wouldn't phrase it like that if I were you, but it's your funeral."

Hux ignored the other man in favor of climbing the stairs. It was blessedly quiet at the top. He basked in it for a moment, only realizing the problem when he saw the case laying in the middle of the hall. He took a couple steps toward it but was stopped when a plastic sack was pulled over his face.

Frantically, he sucked in a breath and struggled against whoever was behind him, holding the sack down. The plastic formed to his face as he continued to panic. Lifted off his feet by the killer in their struggle, Hux thought of Ben. He wondered how long it would take Phasma to find his and Leia’s bodies, and how she would break it to Luke and Ben.

It felt like he spent an eternity thinking, but less than five seconds later he was released. Dropped to the floor like a sack of rotten apples when Ben himself hit the killer over the back of the head with the briefcase. The Pie-Maker tore the plastic sack from his face, gulping in fresh air as Ben reeled back to take another swing. Unfortunately, this one only connected with the killer’s hands, which caught it.

“Didn’t I kill you?”

_Click_

“I can hold my breath for a long time.”

Hux had just enough time to look up and see Leia standing in her nephew’s room with a gun before the killer was sent flying through a window.

It appeared that the charade was over. Aunt Leia was looking right at her nephew. Her nephew who wasn’t supposed to be alive. And if the killer hadn’t given her a black eye that was swelling shut already, she might have seen him.

Ben, realizing this, snuck around a corner and out an open window. He climbed down a trellis to the ground, where he looked up at the shattered window. Bren stood there framed by the gaping hole, smiling down at him. He smiled back and ran over to the killer before delivering a kick to their kidney that would likely leave lasting damage.

The Pie-Maker felt an unfamiliar rush of warmth come over him as he watched his friend beat the shit out of a dead man. He would later wonder aloud what this was called. Phasma would tell him to ask a doctor. Ben would smile again and tell him it was “delight.” The boy he’d rescued from death had returned the favor.

* * *

Back in his apartment, Finn once again watched the news with Millicent.

“Former Twisting Fencing Twins Luke and Leia Skywalker defeated a deadly home invader who may have some connection to the smuggling related murder of their nephew, “Dead Cruise Boy” Benjamin Solo. When asked about a Twisting Fencing Twins reunion, the twins mentioned a benefit performance to support ‘Honey for the Homeless’ was in the works.”

* * *

Long after Hux and Phasma were able to sneak away from the press, he and Ben sat outside the Pie Hole, alone.

“When you brought me back,” Ben began, watching as cars passed them by. “When you didn’t let me go again, was it really just an act of kindness? Did you really do it for no reason but to help me?”

Hux watched the cars as well. “If I’m being honest? No. I was being selfish.” There was a beat of silence that neither of them knew what to do with. “I just thought my world would be better with you in it.”

This silence is easier to handle. It’s the kind that appears when one is pleasantly surprised, and dissipates on its own.

“Is there anything else I should know?”

The Pie-Maker wanted to tell Ben about how his father really died, but what actually came out was: “No.”

Ben lifted one of the plaster monkeys sitting on the bench in the space between him and Bren. “Since it cost me my life, I figure it’s probably okay if I keep one of these. And since you brought me back to life,” He inclined it toward the other man, careful to hold it by the bottom and leave enough room for Bren to take it without accidentally touching him. “You get the other one. Like those half-heart necklaces. But monkeys.”

Hux smiled and took the monkey, watching Ben take up its twin. “Thank you.”

“Thank _you_.”

In any other situation, Ben pushing his monkey’s face against Bren’s monkey’s face would have been ridiculous. In this one, though, it came across as touching. The only form of touching they could get away with.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t a point where it became too awkward for Hux to continue. He pulled his monkey away and felt the weight of it. Averting his eyes from Ben’s. “These are much heavier than they look.”

The Pie-Maker locked eyes with Ben, realizing at the same moment as he did. They both pushed the monkeys together again, this time harder, and were satisfied when the plaster cracked and dropped away from the golden interior. The monkeys’ value was significantly more than sentimental.

* * *

The man who killed Ben was killed by Aunt Leia. After collecting the fifty-thousand dollar reward, Luke and Leia took a renewed interest in the world and left their self enforced retirement.

Anastasia Phasma was less than thrilled with the new dynamic the addition of Ben created. She was much less thrilled with the three-way split.

“You know, this is a lot like reincarnation.” Ben remarked casually as they waited for the coroner a few days later. “More immediate, though.”

“I suppose.”

He turned to Phasma. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

“Hell, no. I’m not taking responsibility for this shitty planet again. The kids can have it and its paper thin ozone layer.”

The coroner entered the room with a cheery smile. “Hello!”

“Afternoon.”

“You’re the toxicologist?” He asked, regarding Ben, who grinned.

“That’s me.”

The shorter man looked Hux over, frowning a little. “Aren’t you the dog expert?”

“You must be thinking of someone else.” Hux deadpanned. “I’m told I have ‘one of those faces.’”

The facts were these: One Matthew Miltenberger, a PADI-certified SCUBA professional, thirty-seven years, six hours and forty-five minutes old, was found in the lobster tank of a franchise steak-and-lobster house. Before Mr. Miltenberger could get into the specifics of his demise, however, Ben thought it would be nice to ask:

“Do you have any last words or thoughts or requests?”

Hux sighed. “We really don’t have time for stuff like that.”

“It’s important, Bren. He just died.”

Even as he felt his annoyance rise at his work being disrupted, the Pie-Maker could feel his heart swell. He reached behind his back, twining his own fingers together and pretending he was holding Ben’s hand. What he didn’t know was that at that exact moment, Ben was doing the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's the end of episode one! Right now I'm going to continue posting one act a week, but I'm considering whether I should change to monthly episodes in the future. It would obviously mean less updates, but it'd be more like getting one big update rather than six little ones. My only hangup with this plan is I would ultimately have less time to work on each chapter because each episode is six acts. I think I'll wait to decide until I finish episode two. Regardless of my decision on this, the last three episodes will be single chapters because I have no way of knowing where the acts end and begin because the scripts for those episodes aren't at Bryan Fuller's website. But we have some time before then.
> 
> Sorry for the planning rambles. The first act of Dummy will be up as planned next Saturday!
> 
>  **EDIT 8/13/16:** Too busy celebrating to finish this week's chapter. Will be up along with chapter eight next week. Sorry for the delay, but cannot bring myself to be sorry for the circumstances!


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